


domestic serial killer fic

by returnsandreturns



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Blood, Corpses, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Serial Killers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-10-18 01:13:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17571497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/returnsandreturns/pseuds/returnsandreturns
Summary: Of course, the one time that Foggy doesn’t find himself damselling in distress in a crisis situation, he fucking kills a guy.And, of course, guess who walks in?". . .did someone just die in here?" Matt asks, arguably too casually, shifting arms full of reusable grocery bags and shouldering the door shut behind him.





	domestic serial killer fic

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't think of a title and I don't think this one is going very far but I might write some weird porn for it.

He’s an intruder and he has a gun and Foggy has this heavy brass statue of a parrot that was inexplicably gifted to him among other things in the box his parents donated to him when he got his first apartment.

He’s been in enough of these situations to know to hit first and ask questions later. So, he hits.

Foggy sits the trophy down gently after he hits the guy, taking a step back. His life isn’t easy so the chance that this guy just stays peacefully passed out until Matt gets here to be the violent adult in this situation is pretty small, so he needs to make a game plan—or maybe not. Blood is pooling around the guy’s head, like—more blood than Foggy’s _ever_ seen from one person and considering who he’s married to, that’s _pretty_ meaningful.

“No,” Foggy says, dropping down next to him. “No, no, no, no.”

His hands just move uselessly in the air for a long, horrible moment before he makes a soft screeching noise and turns the guy over.

His eyes are open and unmoving.

He’s dead.

Of _course_ , the one time that Foggy doesn’t find himself damselling in distress in a crisis situation, he fucking _kills a guy._

And, of course, guess who walks in?

". . .did someone just die in here?" Matt asks, arguably too casually, shifting arms full of reusable grocery bags and shouldering the door shut behind him. 

"If I say no, will you still help me dispose of this body?" Foggy asks, despairingly, than continues as Matt sits down the groceries on the floor gingerly, " _Fuck_ , no, I can't do that—it was an intruder with a gun, it was self-defense, I'll just call the cops and explain it and everything will be—" 

Matt stalks—stalks shouldn't be the right word but it is, Matt has a tendency to stalk, especially now that he's no longer hiding his murdery ninja powers—forward and kisses Foggy to shut him up. It works about half of the time, but Matt's arms are warm around him and Foggy's heart is beating rabbit-fast against Matt's chest and Foggy finds this surprising moment of calm before he says, "Matt, there's a dead guy on our floor."

"That's not uncommon," Matt says, kissing the side of his head. 

"Yes, but normally I'm not  _here for it_ ," Foggy says. "I—I'll just call the cops." 

"Do you really think it's a good idea to bring the cops here, Fog?" Matt asks, smiling and tracing his fingers through Foggy's hair. "All things considered, I'd rather them not connect a murder to our apartment."

"Self-defense," Foggy corrects him, defensively. 

"Justifiable homicide," Matt says, soothingly. 

". . .okay, fix it, please," Foggy says, softly, hiding his face in Matt's neck and Matt makes a pleased humming noise. 

"Go take a shower," he says, taking Foggy by the shoulders and turning him toward the bathroom, "and I'll wait until you leave to grab dinner somewhere before I—" 

"Don't tell me specifics," Foggy says, quickly. He doesn't know and he doesn't want to know how Matt gets away with what he does. He always gets plenty of notice so he can stay out or go hang at Karen's to drink and sigh about their respective murder boyfriends.

He suspects that Frank’s involved in disappearing some bodies but he’s not sure. Karen and him never talk about it in explicit terms—they’ve developed a kind of gross _boys will be boys_ mentality to shrug it off so they don’t have to deal with it for a while.

 _Fuck_ , his life is weird. And really illegal.

"Before I  _fix_ it," Matt says, cupping Foggy's cheeks in his hands and leaning up to press a kiss to his forehead. 

Foggy takes a few deep breaths before he nods. 

"Okay," he says. "Okay—thanks, honey." 

"Hey, you did half the work this time," Matt says, straight-faced. " _I_ should be thanking _you_."

". . .fuck  _off,"_ Foggy groans, starting to walk away and gasping when Matt pulls him back in by his wrist to kiss him for real this time, like a  _we're at work but this lunch break kiss is leading to some unprofessional places_ kind of kiss. It’s dirty and fierce and Foggy lets himself fall into the sheer physical distraction of it before he pulls back and squints at him. “You’re getting off on this, aren’t you?”

He got blood all over Matt’s shirt, the back of his neck, his hair.

“There’s no way you’re surprised by that,” Matt says, smirking.

Foggy makes a face that Matt can’t see and mutters, “There’s _literally_ blood on my hands,” rubbing them together as he walks off to the shower.

*

Foggy finds a dead body wrapped in plastic in Matt’s apartment a few days after their third date. He nudges it with his foot a little then jumps back because what the fuck is he even doing?

“. . .Matt?” he calls, frozen in place.

There’s no way that Matt didn’t hear him coming up but he clearly didn’t think it was worth trying to hide the body, because he steps out with no shirt on, saying, “It’s not what it looks like,” with one of those charming smiles that Foggy fell in love with years ago.

“I—don’t know what this looks like, Matt,” Foggy says, slowly. “Other than—crime-based TV. _Dexter._ ”

“Hey, I’ll have to trust you on that,” Matt says. “You know TV’s not really my medium.”

“Is this Daredevil related?” Foggy asks, gesturing uselessly. “ _This_ meaning the dead dude gift-wrapped on your living room floor?”

“. . .come here,” Matt says, softly, stepping toward him and frowning when Foggy takes a big step back.

“Did you kill him, Matt?” Foggy asks.

“It’s—not that simple.”

“You _said_ you didn’t kill people,” Foggy says, a sick feeling rising through him. “You _told_ me that.”

“I didn’t,” Matt says, sounding exhausted. “Foggy, I told you I didn’t _want_ to kill people. Just—come here, please.”

He opens his arms and Foggy knows a good and rational person would get the fuck out of there and call the police because it doesn’t matter that he’s in love with Matt, it doesn’t make _murder_ okay, but Foggy’s never been a rational person. Not about Matt, at least. He steps in and Matt pulls him close, holding onto him tightly.

“At least let me tell you what he was doing,” he says, softly, breath warm against Foggy’s ear.

“. . .okay,” Foggy whispers, shutting his eyes.

After Matt describes the situation, acts that make Foggy sick to his stomach, Foggy clings to Matt and surprises himself.

“Compelling evidence,” he says.

“I _knew_ you’d understand,” Matt breathes, sounding ecstatic, kissing Foggy’s temple. “I wouldn’t do if I didn’t have to, Foggy, I promise—nobody else would do anything about it, the cops wouldn’t _touch_ it but—I could. I could _stop_ him.”

“. . .has this happened before?” Foggy asks, feeling scared when Matt goes stiff.

“There’s a lot of bad people out there, Foggy,” Matt says, desperately, when Foggy lets go of him and takes a step back. “You can’t hear the things that I hear. I hear _everything._ ”

“I can’t date—Jeffrey _Dahmer_ , Matt,” Foggy says, burying his fingers in his own hair.

“That’s not fair,” Matt says. “I don’t _like_ doing it, I—I _have_ to.”

Matt’s a murderer.

Matt murdered someone—Matt murdered _someones_ —and there’s an actual corpse on the floor and Foggy loves him and he’s going to go throw up right now before he has to deal with making whatever choice he has to make.

“Wait here,” he says, before he runs to the bathroom. “Both—both of you.”

Matt laughs.

Foggy _loves_ him.

*

“Hey,” Karen says, handing him a beer before sitting next to him. “You’re not a murder virgin anymore.”

“I can’t believe I’m living a life where that’s even a phrase that has to exist,” he says, aggressively squeezing one of her throw pillows. “It was an accident. I don’t need to be lumped in with you and the murder twins.”

“Mine was self-defense, too,” she says. “I just tried a little harder than you.”

“He ran into my knife,” he says, flatly. “He ran into my knife ten times.”

“Yeah, well,” she says, shrugging and grabbing her laptop from the coffee table. “You want to talk about your feelings or do you want to watch House Hunters International?”

“. . .House Hunters International,” he says.

They have pizza coming and he’ll hole up here until Matt calls him to let him know it’s safe to come back.  It feels weird how normal this is, considering that a guy died right in front him of him, like, an hour ago. Just hanging out with his best friend Karen while his boyfriend does something that he definitely doesn’t need to know about.

“Stop thinking,” Karen says, elbowing him gently, “and drink faster.”

“I just had a college flashback,” he says, but he obediently tips the beer back to drink half of it at once.

 

**Author's Note:**

> find me [ on tumblr](http://returnsandreturns.tumblr.com)


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